h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I went for a country walk with some friends yesterday. We always go the last Sunday of the month. We decided to walk round the countryside near Tring and were prepared for the potential weather with waterproofs, significant boots and lunches on backpacks. As I was putting on my boots I put my forefinger through the loop at the back of the left boot and pulled heftily. There was a loud crack which caused my friend to turn round and say, "What was that?"
"It was my finger," said I gingerly extracting the finger from the boot loop.
My finger was fairly swollen and painful so I popped in to see a GP today who sent me to the hospital for an x-ray. No broken bones. Apparently it was cartilage or something. The nurse at the hospital strapped my index finger to my second finger and said that I could take the strapping off if it was not doing any use... have you tried typing with your fingers strapped together. The strapping is in the bin.

That's the second time I've been in hospital with a hand injury this year. I hope it's the last.

So to hear that.

Here's for all the best and lots of

for the next year to you!

Poor Vestie

Please be careful where you put your fingers


Happy New Year!


*hic*

It must be my age - though mentally I'm still a teenager.
The finger joint is giving me gyp and the only relief is typing on hootoo. So I'm only doing this as a therapy, don't you know.

Best therapy in the universe.

Not being a massive gym user but a massive gym payer I decided to go to the gym on Friday and did the cardiac workout on the treadmill. Not nearly as bad as it sounds. Then on Saturday Vestie Jr said "Will you come to the gym with me dad?" I valiantly said, "No, push off!" when Mrs Vestie retorted, "Of course he will!" so I went and did another cardiac workout while he piddled about with all of the knobs and buttons he could find on his machine without actually doing anything on it.

Then on Sunday we went on the monthly walk and did eight and a half miles (15km) going up Coomb Hill in the Chilterns. We weren't actually roped together but I think I know how Edmund Hillary felt when he got to the top of Everest. (Fancy naming a mountain after a double glazing company!)

Now I'm waiting for the iron lung to arrive or the vet to put me out of my misery.